


The Green Dress

by Magnetism_bind



Category: Black Sails
Genre: BSFSW, Clothing, Loss, Memories, Very light flirting, fashion - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 15:04:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15776505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: Miranda remembers London.





	The Green Dress

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Black Sails Femslash Week - Clothing/Fashion

 

She shouldn’t have brought it perhaps, but it was one of her favorite dresses, and there was so little in her life now that gave her pleasure. Perhaps that wasn’t fair either. She had not expected to have pleasure in her life now but she was still alive. Every morning the sun rose and she worked in her garden, and the sun went down and she sat in her kitchen, watching the night. Every day started and ended, and she was still here.

There were little things to still enjoy, like the garden. She liked riding, which she did from time to time. She liked bathing in the ocean, which she only did in the very early hours of the morning, stripping off her nightclothes and slipping under the cool salt water. The water lapped over her skin and she closed her eyes, letting herself breathe in the coming dawn.

They had packed so little when they left, but James had never begrudged her bringing any of the things she had chosen. He never spoke of the painting, nor the books, though she saw him touch them from time to time. And he never spoke of the dress hanging at the back of her closet.

It’s been years now, but she still fits into it. She lets her hair fall over her shoulders as she dresses, letting the woman in the mirror blend into the woman she was before. She doesn’t know which woman is the truth anymore; perhaps she’s both of them, perhaps she’s neither.

 

 *  *  *

 

Max is sitting at the table with the tea where she left her.

Miranda hesitates in the doorway, her hands pressed against her stomach for a breath, suddenly self-conscious. She who used to preside over the drawing rooms and dinner tables of London’s finest homes.

“It’s been some time.” She begins.

Max looks up at her. “This is lovely.” She rises, looking at Miranda admiringly.  _“You_  are lovely.”

Miranda smiles faintly. “So what do you think? Would you be able to make use of it, for the party?”

 

  *  *  *

 

Max had come to her, apologizing for not calling before.

“Most people don’t.” Miranda had said frankly. She had heard who Max was, and she was intrigued by her. A young woman rising to any sort of power in society, but especially in Nassau, was thoroughly intriguing. And she had known, from the other gossips in the town that she had taken to indulging and encouraging, that Max and Eleanor had formerly been involved in a romantic capacity. She wondered what that had been like for them, and was it hard now it was over. She watched Max with kind eyes as Max talked, knowing it was bold, but still asking.

“I know you lived in London some time before, but I was wondering if you had any dresses that you would be willing to loan the girls for a masquerade party. I have promised them if business went well this month, they could have a party, with music and dancing. And I thought it would be nice if they could dress up, purely for their own enjoyment.”

“That’s a lovely idea.” Miranda said warmly. “Of course I’ll help.”

She had several dresses she never wore anymore. She had brought those because she’d thought in those early, frenzied days, that they might need to sell them. That was why she had brought her jewelry too, and she had sold it, to pay to fix up the cottage, to hire help, to manage, while James had grown into Flint and slipped away from her over the seas.

She had intended to hold the green dress back, but seeing Max’s pleasure and gratitude over the dresses had prompted her to speak.  “There’s one more. It’s rather special.”

“I would love to see it on you.” Max told her, her eyes and lips utterly sincere in their request.

“All right.”

 

 *  *  *

 

She stood there now in front of this young woman she barely knew, remembering the woman she herself had been so long ago. Miranda sighed faintly.

“May I?” Max moved around her, her fingers dancing over Miranda’s waist. “This color is exquisite.”

Miranda drew in a breath Max moved behind her. “It was my favorite, once upon a time.”

“And now?” Max’s fingers moved down the curve of the back, making the hair on Miranda’s skin prickle deliciously.

“Now there’s not much opportunity for wearing a dress like this. During the day I’m busy with my work, and at night, when I read or play, there’s little reason in dressing up.”

“There is always reason if you enjoy something. You must make pleasures where you can find them.” Max said softly. She moved around to stand in front of Miranda, looking up into her eyes. “I will borrow this, if you wish it, and I will bring it back to you safely, I promise.”

“Thank you.” Miranda said.

Max smiled.

 

 *  *  *

 

She had thought about attending the party, Max had invited her, but she didn’t want to make the girls self-conscious and it was not her party after all.

But the day after, when Max returned the dresses to her, telling Miranda how much the girls had enjoyed them and appreciated them. Miranda thanked her and invited her to come again another time.

And that evening Miranda had lit the candles in the drawing room and dusted her harpsichord. She had picked fresh flowers and the scent of them filled the air. She opened the windows, letting in the night air to drift pleasantly through the room.

She dressed slowly, taking care with the dress. She let herself enjoy it, thinking of Max telling her, ‘There is always reason if you enjoy something.’ It was true and she had been too long in forgetting. Now she finished dressing and looked herself in the mirror.

_Not bad._ Miranda smiled faintly.

She walked into the candle-lit room and sat at the instrument. She let her fingers play over the keys as they had once before, careless and carefree and utterly at ease, simply delighting in the music spilling out of the room into the night.

 


End file.
